Just a Few Random Bits

Ernie had her follow up at the vet.  Walker had to take her, as I'm still on the wonky schedule at the office.  He called me as soon as they got home, and he sounded....shaken.  Ernie must be feeling better, because he said she was not very well behaved this trip.  The vet, a very diplomatic gentleman, told Walker that Ernie gave him a urine sample he didn't ask for.  Walker said she was making noises he had never heard from a cat before, and she spit on him several times on the drive home.  I bet next time he puts her crate in the back seat. 

The vet said Ernie is responding well to treatment, but he also warned that we need to be realistic.  She is well over twenty-two years old.  If we give her the special diet and daily fluid injections, she could live up to a year.  If we stop the injections, she would live maybe a month before her kidneys shut down.  She's much less tolerant of the fluid injections, but we do give her some "juice" every day.  She's figured out this move where she bobs her head down really fast, which will dislodge the needle if I'm not holding it in.  So I hold it in, even though the extra pressure slows down the fluid drip and the process takes twice as long.  She hasn't fussed to the point where  I feel like we should stop the injections.  At least not so far.  We're taking it one day at a time.

By the end of this week, I should be back to my normal work schedule.  Which means I go in later in the afternoon, but I have to stay later, too.  This time of year I love my schedule, as I have lots of time with Diva during the day.  It's also starting to get light out when I get home, so I sometimes take my bike for a trail ride after work.  Most of the year I can't do that ~ too dark.  I love summer.

I haven't done a weigh in for a couple days, mostly because I haven't been great about sticking to my plan.  A while back a neighbor's mailbox was run over in the middle of the night, so Walker and Bro went over and put in a new one for him.  He thanked them with a packet of tickets to a fund raiser breakfast at the VFW.  Holy cow, that breakfast was good!  The food was pretty well salted, though, and I generally try to avoid salt.  So I knew I'd be holding water weight for a couple days.  Then Bro made lasagna for dinner - not exactly lean or green as my diet recommends. But ~ today at the office my coworker told me I look skinny, then when I put my keys in my pocket my pants slid down to my hips.  While mooning the office staff is really bad for them, it was pretty good for me.  I think it signals progress. I've also learned the hard way that if I need to pick something off the floor, I need to squat, not bend over, or I'll be flashing whoever is nearby.  My tops are loose, too.  With all the parts of me that should be covered falling out of my clothes, I think some shopping may be in order.  But not too much - I have a ways to go yet.

I Hope Walker Really Loves Me.....

My Ernie cat is going to the doctor tomorrow.  I called a vet we haven't seen in a while, and explained how she she hasn't been eating much, and I explained how she gets aggressive an agitated when we bring her to the doctor.  This vet agreed to see her without sedation to try to get a blood test and maybe a urine sample.  The urine probably won't be a problem.  She uses her pee as a weapon at the vet.  I know y'all probably think I am exaggerating, but I can assure you: she is five and a half pounds of fluffy fury when she goes to the doctor.  She hisses, spits, bites, scratches, and, if she's really mad, flips onto her back and shoots balls of poo at the doctor with amazing aim.  She has torn apart exam rooms, broken stuff, peed everywhere, and generally wreaked havoc.  Yep.  It's an adventure.  Between the yowling and the crashing of equipment to the floor, the people in the waiting room are more than a little nervous when our door opens.  So I know y'all will find this hard to believe, but I did not purposely schedule the appointment during my work hours.  That was totally up to the vet clinic, as they had no morning or early afternoon openings for a week.  I did not stick Walker with this duty on purpose.  Really.

Ahem.

It sounds like Ernie may have a hyperactive thyroid. There are a couple things the vet wants to check for, but based on the symptoms that's where I'll lay my odds.  I can feel a knot in her neck, but I don't know if that's her thyroid gland.  It's in about the right spot.  Anyway: I feel better now, knowing that we can at least try to help her without the risk of sedation.  If they can't pin her down long enough to get blood, we'll have to move on to Plan B.  Right now, I don't actually have a Plan B.  So please, cross your fingers for us.  We'll need all the help we can get.

My Baby, Ernie

Once upon a time, a guy I thought was prince charming brought me a very special gift, hidden away in the pocket of his coat:  a tiny gray kitten with big blue eyes and a little patch of white on her neck.  My roommates and I were not exactly allowed to have pets, but the apartment had mice, so Roomie #1 had adopted a gray cat named Sophie.  Roomie #2 was a raging Bette Midler fan, and Bette had two characters named Soph and Ernie in her act.  Roomie #2 agreed to let me keep the kitten only if I named her Ernie.  So I did.


That was 22 years ago.  Ernie and I have been through a lot together, including a succession of kitty brothers and kitty sisters.  She has outlived them all.  Though Walker likes animals, he's not into being a pet owner.  He's not keen on adopting any more furry kids.  Ernie was my first baby, and will likely be my last.

It's not easy watching her get older, seeing her slow down.  She's lost a lot of weight, even though she eats well.  She's been wobbly on her feet.  She doesn't appear to hear or see well.  She startles when I reach to pet her, as if she didn't know I was there. Sometimes she tries to jump onto the sofa and doesn't make it.  All of this scares the heck out of me and reminds me that her days with us are limited.

But today, she broke my heart.  She was walking through the kitchen when her back legs went out from under her and she toppled over.  I went to pick her up but she scooted away from me, on her front legs.  She kept trying to stand but her back legs did not want to hold her up. She would not let me pick her up. My sister's dogs are over and the younger one, a puppy Ernie barely tolerates, kept trying to get closer.  Ernie got more and more agitated, moving in circles on three legs while one back leg appeared to be having some sort of muscle spasm.  Ten minutes of this, and all of the sudden she seemed fine again.  She went into the living room and hopped onto the sofa like it was nothing.

So now, Walker and I have to decided what to do.  Every instinct tells me I need to take her to the vet but I know, at 22 years old, what they can do for her.  Pretty much nothing.  The vet already told me he has never had a female cat live to 23. The thing is, Ernie does not enjoy the vet, she does not enjoy the car, and she does not enjoy going outdoors.  She gets so agitated that the vet has told me I need to sedate her before I bring her in. She may not survive the sedation.  I had another cat that was sedated for a vet visit and she died in the car on the way home. So there it is.  The plan for right now is to keep a close eye on her.  Walker has the next couple days off, so that's his job when I'm at work.  If she has another episode, I guess we'll have to risk the sedation to get her checked out.  I so do not want her to have one minute of unnecessary pain.